


Unsaid

by writelikeitsgoingoutofstyle (twoandahalfslytherins)



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Assumed homophobia, F/M, M/M, alcoholism as a coping mechanism, implied previous rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 13:42:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6612874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twoandahalfslytherins/pseuds/writelikeitsgoingoutofstyle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not everyone is understanding after trauma.</p><p>Especially when you don't explain yourself.</p><p>OR</p><p>Hercules Mulligan doesn't want to go clubbing and if he has to say 'no' one more time he's going to scream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unsaid

The sound of the door opening startles Hercules from his thoughts, and he looks up just in time to dodge as Alex throws himself on the couch next to him.

“Herc, my main man.” Alex spreads himself sideways, taking up most of the room even as two more bodies come through Hercules front door. “I see you started without us.”

It takes him a moment to realize that the man is referring to the bottles lining themselves up on his coffee table. Hercules stares at the dark glass of the one closest to him, trying to resist the urge to count as Lafayette leans down to pick up one.

On cue, he makes a face. “And it is not even the good stuff, mon ami.”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Hercules asks, not bothering to argue with Lafayette for the five hundredth time about his taste in beer.

John props himself up on the arm of an opposing chair, eyebrow raised. “It’s Friday? We always go out on Fridays. Don’t tell me you forgot.”

He had. He'd been completely unaware of what day of the week it was. Which probably makes the amount of empty bottles even sadder. “Not feeling it tonight, you all go without me.”

Alex pouts, and honestly, Hercules hates it. He’s a grown fucking man, and here he is still acting like a high schooler. Like he can’t believe that someone wouldn’t want to hang out with him. Always batting his eyelashes and pouting to try and get his way when someone doesn’t agree with him.

“Come on, man,” John says, “Is this about the girl from last week? You trying to avoid her or something? What’d you do sneak out of her apartment without leaving your number?”

No. He’d made the mistake of letting her come back to his place, of letting her- Hercules shakes away the thought. Sure, he didn’t have a good night, but that has absolutely nothing to do with his not wanting to go tonight.

Fuck having this conversation. Hercules stands up, crosses to his kitchen to grab another beer. He has no intentions for this night beyond drinking himself to sleep and their presence isn’t going to stop him from that.

Unfortunately, they follow him, apparently uninterested in giving him space. Lafayette props himself up on the counter, looking curious, Laurens and Alex near the doorway. “I’m not changing my mind.”

“What’s up with you? Bad day at work or something?”

Hercules shrugs past John once he has his beer. “Maybe I’m too old for this shit. Go find someone your own age to hang out with.”

“What the fuck? You aren’t that much older than us, you couldn’t even be my dad.” Alex rolls his eyes, and Hercules’ fingers tighten on the neck of his drink. “Is this some sort of mid-life crisis? If so can’t you have a fun one? I know you already own a motorcycle, but you could always go and buy a fancy car or go skydiving or something?”

And dammit if Alex isn’t still bouncing after him like a stray puppy, trying to convince him to be more interesting. He’s about to tell the younger man to fuck off when Alex does it. Curls his arm around Hercules’ waist and bats his eyelashes up at him. “I mean, if you are trying to avoid a girl, you could also try out our side of town. There’s this place called the Borough-”

Alex is set to keep talking, but Herc’s stomach is lurching and he jerks, physically dislodging Alex with enough force to cause him to stumble. Which isn’t his fucking fault because Alex should have never been balancing his weight on him to begin with.

“I said no,” Hercules snarls and Alex is looking up at him and he can’t.

He can’t take it anymore. So he takes his beer and storms to his room. Still seething. That’s the one good thing about his job, no one touches him. And sure, he has to touch other people, when he takes their measurements or pinning things- but it’s all on his terms. The worst he has to worry about during the week is someone reaching out to balance themselves with a hand on his shoulder.

A cough catches his attention, and Hercules glares in the direction of John, who glares back. “You didn’t have to throw him. It’s fine if you don’t want to go to a gay bar but damn man-”

“I don’t care about the gay bar,” Hercules snaps.

And he doesn't. This isn’t some bullshit about him not wanting to get hit on by a dude. About him being fine with John and Alex because they’re seeing each other and thus not a threat. Sure, he’s never brought it up before- but that’s because they usually pick where everyone goes anyway.

“And,” He’s trying to keep his temper in check, especially because John’s still giving him that judgy look, “I didn’t throw your boyfriend. I don’t like to be touched.”

Alex and Lafayette have both appeared as well, though Lafayette hangs back slightly. “Mon cher, we must remember that petit lion is just that. It does not take much to unbalance him.”

John’s still not moving and Hercules just wants to drink his beer and go to sleep. “I think I’ve made myself perfectly clear that I’m not in the mood. So go the fuck on without me.”

“I do not think any of us are in the mood anymore either,” Lafayette says from above John’s head, apparently trying to play reasonable on all sides.

Hercules hadn’t meant to ruin their night. But it isn’t his fault that no one seems to understand what the word ‘no’ means anymore. “Then go home.”

“Drinkings never made you this much of an asshole before.” Alex, still looking slightly wounded though Hercules is pretty sure that’s more his pride than anything else.

As if it’s the alcohol that’s making him this way. “Would you rather I rephrase? Fuck off.”

“You can’t treat us like this without explanation.” John again.

“I don’t owe you a reason for not wanting to go out.” The lamp on his bedside table rattles when he puts his beer down. “And I sure as fuck don’t owe you one for being pissed off that you won’t listen to me. I don’t care if you go clubbing or not, but get the fuck out.”

John wraps an arm around Alex’s shoulder, shooting him a nasty look as he snaps fine and directs Alex out before he can open his mouth again. Which is fine. Absolutely fine. Better Laurens pissed at him than having to sit through another round of whatever the fuck it is that Alex wants to bitch at him for.

Hercules stares at his drink, considers getting up to get another one before climbing under the covers of his bed, still completely dressed. He’s nowhere near drunk enough to go to sleep, but he doesn’t want to walk through the rest of his apartment. Doesn’t want to think about how pissed off John is, or the way he can hold a grudge.

Definitely doesn’t want to think about whether or not he’s being unfair to Alex. Because that would mean acknowledging why. And he’d rather have John think he’s been a homophobe all along than admit out loud that he’s pissed at their friend for pushing the girl from the other night at him. There’d be too much to explain there.

And he doesn’t want to talk about it at all.

He blinks when Lafayette comes into focus, the man placing a glass of water and a bottle of pills he must have grabbed from the kitchen on the table. He picks up the beer and walks away again, turning off the hallway light as he goes. Doesn’t reappear, but now that Hercules has remembered that the man didn’t leave, he can’t help but listen for the sound of the door.

It doesn’t come.

When Hercules drags himself out of bed, Lafayette is sitting on the couch, face glowing in the darkness as he looks at his phone screen. “Why are you still here?”

Lafayette shrugs. “I do not wish for you to crack your head.”

“I’m not that drunk,” Hercules defends, feeling more exhausted than combative now that Alex and John are gone.

The bottles that had lined his coffee table are gone now, but Lafayette still raises an eyebrow in that direction. As if the mere memory should speak for itself.

Maybe it does.

He’s just not sure he likes what it says.


End file.
